


Memento Mori

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-30
Updated: 2004-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he feels like two people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "Origin." Title and headings taken from _The X-Files_.

_i. unruhe_

Connor isn't twenty-one yet, but the bartender never asks. He only ever orders a couple of beers, anyway, and when he leaves, he walks in a straight line.

He used to come to the bar after he and Tracy argued, or when he was stressed about a midterm. Now, he's discovered, there are more frightening things in the world than midterms.

And he's one of them.

One night, a man sits next to Connor, and looks at him like he _knows_.

"You remember everything, don't you?"

Connor looks back at him, like a predator. "Yes."

"Do you remember dying?"

He looks at the bottom of the glass, catches a glimpse of his reflection. "I remember pain."

  
_ii. tempus fugit_

The stranger introduces himself as Lindsey, and he appears at the bar every few nights. He asks a couple of questions, and Connor asks a couple of him, and then they go their separate ways.

Connor knows his parents would freak out, but it's his way of dealing.

One evening, Lindsey asks what it's like, to have two sets of memories.

"Like I'm two people," Connor answers, with an obligatory eyeroll. Then he lets that drop, and speaks again. "Like I'm half a person."

Lindsey downs the rest of his drink. "I know how that feels."

  
_iii. demons_

Other nights, when he's not at the bar, if he's not working on his latest research assignment, Connor patrols the campus. He finishes classes, grabs some food, and studies for a while, if it's still light out. An hour after sunset, he grabs a stake or two from the back of his closet and heads for the darker corners of the campus.

Tracy doesn't understand why he's changed, this small bit. During the day, he's the Connor she's always known--gently sarcastic, affectionate, and studious. At night, he disappears. They used to talk on the phone for hours (she thinks). Thursdays were date nights, Mondays were movie nights, and every other weekend, they drove home to visit their families.

Before.

  
_iv. sanguinarium_

Dispatching vampires is no trouble for Connor; they fall to ash like matchsticks. Sometimes they bleed, though, and it's starting to become a problem.

He asks his mother, on the phone, how to get blood out of a sweater. "Nosebleed," he explains. "I think the library's too dry or something." She recommends a cold water, or hydrogen peroxide, and he promises to study somewhere outside.

"My apartment building has washing machines," Lindsey mentions another night. "Less traffic than the ones in your dorm, probably."

"I'll keep that in mind," Connor replies, and the next time a vampire doesn't die quickly enough, he shows up at Lindsey's door with a dufflebag and a bottle of peroxide.

  
_v. the field where I died_

The fourth time Connor has to utilize Lindsey's laundry room, it occurs to him that stain-resistant clothing might be a good investment.

He mentions to his mother that he's outgrowing his clothes. It's true, anyway--the past months of hunting have improved his muscle tone, and his shirts are starting to cling.

She offers to take him shopping, if he'd like to drive home this weekend. He declines, sincere in his regret, though he mumbles about being really busy.

A few days later, a significant check arrives in the mail, so Connor goes shopping.

He could use a new hockey jersey, too, but he can't bring himself to go into the sporting goods store.

  
_vi. never again_

The bar is closed for renovations for two weeks, Connor discovers one night. He hadn't paid attention to the signs, and the closed door, barred and taped, is what tipped him off.

Lindsey's leaning next the door, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Figured you hadn't noticed."

Connor kicks the doorframe, gently. "This sucks."

"I've got beer," Lindsey offers. "Come over."

It's a euphemism, Connor knows. He doesn't care.

  
_vii. unrequited_

Tracy broke up with him three weeks ago. He feels sorry about that; he did like her, still does, but he knows it's fair.

So he doesn't feel guilty, now, slipping off to Lindsey's apartment, for more than just laundry. He's made the choice to stay with his family, but he can't forget his old one.

Lindsey reminds him of that, murmuring of Gunn while they fuck, and about a wife Connor doesn't know. He talks about Spike, that vampire from Wolfram &amp; Hart. And Fred, and what she became. (Connor isn't sure which version he prefers.) Once in a while, he even mentions Faith, and they grind against the wall and pant.

Lindsey never mentions Cordelia, and Connor never mentions Angel.

  
_viii. elegy_

One evening, Connor shows up at Lindsey's apartment unannounced, and uses the spare key to slip inside. He follows a trail of lingerie and denim into the bedroom and finds Lindsey laid out on the bed, a strange woman sucking him off.

Lindsey sees him but doesn't say anything until he's finished. Then he smirks, folding his hands behind his head. "Eve, have you met Connor? You should be familiar with the name."

The woman looks at Connor with narrow eyes and, unashamed, stalks up to him and starts undressing him, roughly. He's not in the mood to protest.

She fucks him angrily, and snarls about mortality.

After that night, he doesn't see her again. There are traces of her in Lindsey's apartment, but he doesn't care enough to ask.

  
_ix. kaddish_

The phone calls to his parents are more awkward now, and infrequent. He's slowly slipping away from them.

It has nothing to do with his new memories, or his old life, and everything to do with the nature of the world.

Children and parents grow apart.

  
_x. home_

One morning, Connor skips a class.

Instead, he pulls out a phone book. Looks up a number, and dials.

He's barely said his name before the receptionist transfers him.

The line rings again, twice, and then--

"This is Angel."

Connor closes his eyes. "Hello, Father."

There's a nervous pause. A cleared throat.

"Connor. Hi."

They don't talk long, a few minutes at most.

But it's a start.

  



End file.
